


Christmas Day

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [49]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Developing friendship with Jack helps, Grief/Mourning, Ianto's sister is a pill, Unpleasant family Christmas, Wizarding photos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 18:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto's Christmas has its ups and downs.





	Christmas Day

Christmas day was bright and cold. Ianto drove to his sister’s with a sack of presents and no little amount of trepidation. He really wasn’t sure why he still attempted to have a relationship with his sister, but she was pretty much the only family he had left, so he felt obliged to try.

Johnny opened the door with a smile. “Ianto! Good to see ya, mate!”

Ianto made a mental note to talk to Draco and Luna about what he could do to reinforce his shielding. His occlumency was normally quite effective, but since… Well, suffice to say it had not been quite as strong, of late. So things like pity and contempt were easily making their way past his defenses.

Wait. Contempt?

What the actual hell?

“Ianto.”

“Happy Christmas, Rhi,” he attempted to smile, but he was shaken by the utter lack of anything friendly rolling off of his sister in sickening waves. Johnny’s pity was bothersome, but it was coming from a friendly place of compassion and goodwill, but this… He was confused.

“Look, mate. We wanted to say, before the kids come in, you know,” Johnny was babbling.

“Johnny, you’re babbling,” Rhiannon sniped.

“We’re sorry about Lisa,” Johnny said in a rush.

Okay, it wasn’t pity, precisely. But it was not anything particularly helpful to Ianto’s composure. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, staring at his shoes. 

At that moment, the children ran into the hall. “Uncle Ianto! Uncle Ianto!”

Ianto knelt down for hugs, but the children wanted none of that. After a reluctant embrace from each of them, they stuck their little hands out. Ianto was a bit put off, but Johnny and Rhiannon just laughed. Ianto reached into his pocket and gave each of them a fiver, and they ran off again.

He blinked. At least the team thanked him for their coffee before dismissing him to sink back into nonexistence. He sighed again and stood, holding up a sack from the store. “I brought orange juice and Prosecco, for mimosas.”

“Did you bring the gingerbread?”

“I texted you that I had to work yesterday. There wasn’t time to make gingerbread.”

“You didn’t,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

Ianto pulled out his phone and showed the text. She walked away with a huff.

Johnny looked awkward. “So. How is work? Tourism Board, yeah? Bet you get some right nutters in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ianto chuckled, relieved that someone was making an effort. He told Johnny a few of his more amusing stories of encounters with tourists and daffy locals.

They made their way into the living room, and Ianto looked around at the once familiar surroundings. This was the house he’d grown up in, after all. The one he escaped from, when his letter came. The one he was trapped in, during each summer holiday (he always stayed at Hogwarts or with friends at the Christmas holidays). The one he ran from, from the tender age of nine, to learn the finer points of thievery.

Rhiannon had changed very little when she moved in after their father died, so it was all there, to call up old memories. None of them pleasant. 

“I suppose it’s not fancy enough to suit you and your airs, now.” Rhiannon set down the drinks and put her hands on her hips.

“What?” Ianto blinked up at her. “I was just remembering that Mam used to put the tree in that corner,” he pointed, hoping the diversion would help.

“Well, that was bad fang shoy, wasn’t it?” she snapped and stomped back to the kitchen.

“I should go,” Ianto muttered, cringing inwardly and wondering what Lisa would have thought of the _feng shui_ of the room. She had loved studying geomancy and how to make the flow of a room bright and happy and clear. Her flat had been a beautiful space, but far too small. He still regretted not talking Soren into trading flats with her, but his roommate had not wanted to move, and there had been no way to break either lease, otherwise.

“Nah, mate. Don’t mind her,” Johnny was wafting pity at him, again. Whether it was pity that he was likely on his own for the rest of the holiday or because his own sister despised him, Ianto was unable to discern. “She may have a tongue as sharp as a scalpel, but she’s a decent cook. Get a meal in your belly before you take off, yeah?”

Ianto nodded and reached for his drink. When his sister re-entered the room, he handed out the presents he’d brought. All were from the list Rhiannon had sent him. He’d learned long ago not to deviate from the list. He’d also learned that she never put anything under a hundred quid on any of her lists. He knew to argue was to cause a row about how cheap he was, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it.

She opened her gift, a fancy food processor, then set it aside without comment. The children likewise opened their presents and then went back to the cartoon they’d been watching.

“Aw, son! Thank you!” Johnny held up the pair of rugby tickets that had been packed in with the jersey of his favorite player.

Ianto gave his brother-in-law a smile, grateful that at least one of his gifts had been acknowledged.

“What’d you get the jersey for?” Rhiannon asked. “It wasn’t on the list.”

Ianto shrugged. “I remembered he said he was a fan. Figured it’d be nice to have a gift to open, rather than an envelope.”

“Fine!” she spat, standing and grabbing an envelope from the top of the television.

Ianto inwardly groaned and asked all that was holy why his luck was so shit.

She threw the envelope at him and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Johnny chuckled, but there was no malice in it.

Ianto opened the envelope. It was a ten quid gift card to Starbuck’s. He smiled at Johnny. “Thank you.”

In the next moment, Rhiannon called them in to eat.

As they sat, Johnny tried to keep up the conversation, but after the third lapse into awkward silence that Ianto simply wasn’t up to overcoming, Rhiannon spoke.

“So you said you moved back to put Lisa in care,” she said, her voice hard.

Ianto did not want to talk about this. “Yes.”

Silence.

“Where?”

“Small, private facility in town,” he said noncommittally.

More silence.

“I read that all of the survivors got a government payout,” Rhiannon said. “That true?”

Ianto felt his face heat up. “Yes.”

“Suppose you squandered the lot, paying for private care.”

“Rhi!” Johnny frowned at her.

“Well that’s what the bloody NHS is for, isn’t it?” she spat. “Private care certainly didn’t help her, now did it? Bloody useless git. Not good for anything, but you get lucky enough to hit the jackpot, and you blow it all on a lost cause.”

Ianto stood from his chair so fast it toppled over backwards. “Rhiannon, a pleasure as always. Thank you for a lovely brunch, but I should be going. Johnny, kids, Happy Christmas.”

He was in his car before he realized that he’d left his gift card on the coffee table in the living room. “Fuck it,” he muttered. 

He hated Starbuck’s, anyway.

He decided to drive to the hub to check in on Jack. By the time he parked he was calmer, though he was still shaking. His phone beeped and he saw a text from his sister telling him how rude he’d been.

***

The rift was incredibly quiet, that day. Jack had been bored out of his mind, and was about to set the alerts to come to his wristband and go for a walk when Ianto arrived, looking pale and angry. He looked at his watch. It was only quarter to one.

“Thought you had brunch at noon.”

“Yes. Care for a training session?”

Jack sighed. He wondered if he’d be able to cajole the story out of his friend. “C’mon, then.”

Ianto proved too angry to train, so Jack put gloves on him and held the heavy bag steady as the younger man went at it for a solid hour before finally giving in to fatigue. Jack was impressed, actually. Ianto had proved to be a quick study, learning how to throw punches to have the maximum impact to the target with a minimum impact to his wrists and hands. Once that technique had been mastered, he’d moved on to learn others. 

Jack was tired, simply from holding the bag steady. Ianto knew how to throw the entirety of his weight into each punch, and his anger had further fueled the impact of each hit. He now collapsed onto the mat, sweating profusely and panting to catch his breath.

Jack sat beside him. “Want to talk about it?”

“She sent me a Christmas list, like always. Minimum out of pocket would be four hundred quid.”

“Seriously?”

“She knows I have a good job, and that I have no one to spend it on,” he said bitterly before continuing. “So I show up with five hundred quid worth of gifts, and get exactly one thank you, from Johnny.”

Jack frowned.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto muttered, waving it off. “She’s not wrong. I don’t have anyone else to spend it on.”

“What did they give you?” Jack asked, curious.

Ianto shook his head. “My friend Harry, one year at school, he got a pair of his uncle’s old socks and a coat hanger for his birthday. So I shouldn’t complain, really.”

“You can’t complain about it, if you don’t say what it was.”

“Doesn’t matter. I left it there, anyway.”

“Then tell me.”

Ianto told him, feeling ashamed, for some reason. 

Jack bit down his anger, recognizing Ianto’s reaction. “And why did you leave in such a hurry?”

Ianto began weeping when he finished describing the conversation. Jack pulled him close, letting him release the grief that the encounter had brought up. He eventually calmed, though it seemed to take longer than usual, this time. Jack figured it was more than grief for Lisa that was plaguing the younger man, this time.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning away from Jack, once he’d calmed.

“You don’t need to apologize. But I think I want to make you give me another promise.”

Ianto looked at Jack and huffed. “What.”

“Please don’t go back there, again.”

Ianto snorted. “I don’t know why I bother.”

“I don’t either. Ianto, what you just described to me was abusive.”

Ianto sniffed and held up his gloved hands to Jack, who began unlacing them and pulling them off. Ianto began unwrapping the tape that Jack had used to protect his wrists. 

“You understand that, don’t you?” Jack leaned down, trying to get Ianto to look at him.

Ianto shrugged and continued to unwrap his hands.

Jack knelt before Ianto and took him by the arms. “Ianto, tell me you understand.”

“But I don’t,” came the reply, so soft Jack almost didn’t hear it. “I don’t understand, Jack. What did I do, that was so bad…?” He looked up at Jack, the pain in his eyes so clear it made the immortal’s heart ache. 

“You didn’t do anything, Ianto.”

But Ianto knew that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been born with magic, and it was something his squib sister was never going to forgive him for.

Ianto finished unwrapping his hands. “Probably best not to spar today, I guess.”

“Probably. You go get cleaned up. We’ll grab some lunch.”

“Yeah, I kind of stormed out, before I ate anything.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Jack stood and hauled Ianto to his feet. “Just don’t go back there, okay?”

Ianto nodded.

They ate leftovers from the refrigerator and spent the afternoon trash talking one another over a chess board. Ianto left for the Burrrow, feeling almost like he’d be able to bear the evening in the company of so many people. After he left, Jack felt like he’d had his best Christmas in years, thanks to the previous evening and the pleasant afternoon.

***

The DA was very much like a large family. They had long ago decided to draw names for Christmas, to keep the obligations of the season from getting out of hand. Even so, Ianto’s arms were laden when he arrived at the Burrow. His official gift was a rare cutting, for Neville. He’d also brought a case of prosecco for Ms. Molly. After all, she was hosting a rather large party, and even if it didn’t all get consumed that night, he knew she had a partiality for it.

He proceeded to exasperate his friends with small trinkets and treats for everyone. He ignored their protests, because while he wasn’t really all that thankful to still be breathing, he was extremely grateful for their care and concern, and the time they’d spent trying to help him pull himself back together, again.

Again.

He was certain they should be tired of doing that for him, by now. He felt a bit hapless, actually.

They saw his gesture for what it was, though, and they were glad to see him trying. His heartbreak was palpable, but they were determined to weather it, with him. 

Ianto had not really been looking forward to the evening. He took Luna aside when he arrived and asked her if she could check his occlumency and shielding for him. She was able to help him shore up his defenses, though she let him know that part of this issue was due to the damage done by using legilimency on the Cyberman. 

“It’s healing, but in the meantime, your defenses are not as strong as usual.”

“I’m picking up way too much,” Ianto muttered. At her insistence, he explained about the disastrous brunch at his sister’s, earlier.

Luna was outraged, but she saw Ianto cringing away from her reaction. “Oh, Nif. Let me do some research with Draco. Maybe there’s something that can help, until you recover. In the meantime, I’ll help with your shielding, with your permission.”

He gratefully granted it.

As a result, the rest of the evening was far more tolerable. It was even fairly good fun, as everyone exchanged gifts. Neville was very pleased with the cutting Ianto gave him. He had run across it during a retrieval and had barely had time to conceal it from Jack. Thankfully, he succeeded and was able to return to dig it up, later that night.

“I always forget that you did pretty well in herbology,” Neville grinned. “I’m amazed you spotted this, though.”

“A bit difficult not to,” Ianto chuckled. At Neville’s curious look, he added, “A Weevil knocked me into a patch of it.”

“I hate it that you fight aliens, Ianto,” Molly fretted.

“Wasn’t much of a fight, really,” Ianto shrugged. “I’m actually not cleared for field duty, yet. But Jack and I were on our way back from grabbing dinner for everyone when some tat fell through the rift. Since it was non-organic and directly on our way back to the hub, Jack made an exception. The Weevil came out of nowhere, like it was running from something else. Bowled me over, and then Jack went after it.”

“And then Jack spent the rest of the night kicking himself for letting you go along,” Luna smiled knowingly.

Ianto frowned. “Pretty much. He takes too much on himself, though. Wasn’t really a Weevil hot-spot, so there’s no way that could have been expected.”

“Wasn’t protocol, though,” Hermione sniffed.

“I think you’ll find protocol can be a rather fluid thing, when it comes to aliens coming out of nowhere. Needs must, and all that.”

The conversation turned from there. Soon the gift giving of the evening was done, and it broke Luna’s heart that Ianto didn’t even seem to notice that he hadn’t received a gift. She had decided to hold it back, and give it to him when she took him home.

They had all been discussing the wisdom of Luna’s gift for some weeks, now. Some thought it was a good idea, most thought it was a bad one. Several thought it might be a good idea, but maybe next year. Luna knew what she knew. Molly and Arthur supported her decision, as did Neville and Draco, so she weathered the helpful advice and outright criticism with her usual good nature.

When the evening was done, she apparated him to the Ministry flat and went to make a pot of tea. Ianto watched with curiosity, wondering why they couldn’t go to his flat. But something he had noticed lately was that he didn’t care enough about much of anything to pursue any curiosity over it.

Luna saw this, of course, and made a mental note to speak with Draco about adding something for depression in with whatever course he came up with to treat the inflammation that was plaguing Ianto’s occlumency.

Soon enough they were sitting together in comfortable silence, enjoying their tea. “You didn’t say anything about not getting a gift,” Luna observed.

Ianto shrugged. “Figured someone who couldn’t make it must have drawn my name.” He hunched down in his seat before continuing. “Besides, everyone’s done far too much for me already, this year.”

“Oh, Nif. We’d all do the same, for any of us. You know this. And you’re one of us, so why shouldn’t we do it, for you?”

Ianto shrugged again. It had become a bit of an habitual response, Luna noted. She added, with some heat, “And don’t you _dare_ say anything about not deserving it.” She reached out and took his hand, and he was startled to see the tears in her eyes. “Ianto, you must forgive yourself.”

The rational part of Ianto’s mind knew this. He was a very forgiving man, others had observed, and he supposed it was true enough. Life was too short (and too long) to carry grudges for more than a reasonable amount of time. But it was always more difficult to apply these rules to oneself.

He sniffed. “It’s so hard, Luna. I mean, I know I was in an impossible situation, but still… I did things that went… that _go_… against everything that I thought I was.”

“Did you, though?” she asked, her wide eyes full of emotion. At his flinch, she took his hand. “Torchwood shredded every reason you ever may have had to be loyal to it. The pure arrogance of that, that _woman_…” she trailed off with a huff. “Your only loyalty was to Lisa. And you acted accordingly.”

Ianto drew breath to argue, but she gently spoke over whatever his reply might have been. “Ianto, one of the things that makes you who you are is your loyalty. That you are so torn up over this shows that, more than anything else.”

At his frown, she continued. “For some reason, you gave Jack your loyalty. Otherwise, you would feel guilty and horrified at what could have happened, had the Cyberman succeeded, but you wouldn’t feel so shaken in who you are.”

She squeezed his hand before continuing. “I’d bet it’s his friendship, and not his leadership, that earned your loyalty. I think his leadership was very much in line with what justified your betraying Torchwood for Lisa.” She spoke over his protest again. “He’s admitted as much, Nif.”

Ianto grudgingly nodded. Jack’s attitude towards T1 had often left Ianto feeling lower than dirt. It had confused him, because somehow he and Jack had become friends, despite this. And Luna was right. He was appalled at what could have happened, but what had shredded his self-respect had been the look on Jack’s face – that look of personal betrayal.

“If I know you, you’ve already forgiven him for his poor leadership. And I’ve heard him say that he’s forgiven you. And I’ve seen him really trying to forgive himself, and even if the only reason for that is to show you how it’s done, I think you need to make the same effort, for yourself.” She took his other hand and squeezed both. “Please, won’t you try?”

He sniffed again and nodded. “I’ll try.”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “Good.” Then she released him and sat back, reaching into her messenger bag. “Now. I want you to open this,” she handed him a package.

Ianto took the flat package and could immediately tell it was not a book. He unwrapped it and drew in a sharp breath when he turned the item over. “Luna,” his voice sounded like someone else’s.

It was a five by seven photo in a plain wooden frame. Lisa smiled out from it, then she laughed and blew him a kiss. 

It was a wizarding photo.

“How…” he choked.

“I took it that night you invited me over for dinner.” It had been a few weeks before Canary Wharf. Ianto had wanted Lisa to get to know Luna a bit better, as groundwork for Luna helping him come out of the wizarding closet to Lisa, once they became engaged. He could now see that she was in his bedroom in his flat in London, the dark blue walls behind her setting off the white blouse she was wearing, which in turn set off her beautiful skin.

Ianto nodded. “Oh, gods,” he sobbed.

Luna pulled him into an embrace, holding him as he wept. When he pulled away from her sometime later to blow his nose, she asked quietly, “Did I do the right thing, giving this to you now?”

He nodded. “I’ve been kicking myself for not thinking to take a wizarding photo of her. This,” he sniffed, then sobbed again. “Thank you.”

She ran a hand up and down his arm.

“I miss her so much, Luna,” he confessed quietly. “I still… sometimes I find myself just standing, not breathing, and there are dark spots and I have to make myself breathe before I pass out.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide and pained. “I have to remind myself to breathe, I miss her so much.”

She blinked and tears of her own fell. “I know,” she said. She didn’t, of course. She’d never experienced the losses Ianto had. But she could see his pain, and that was enough. Because he hurt, so did she. “But Ianto, just hang on. Weather this storm. I see you…” she trailed off, and he looked at her, frowning. “I’ve seen,” she hesitated again.

“You’ve seen me, in the future?” he asked. “Please don’t try to sell me something, Luna.”

“I never would,” she replied earnestly. “But I don’t know how to describe what I did see. It was your future, and it showed me that you will find…” she knew if she told him he would find love, peace, contentment, and happiness, he would never believe her. She sighed. “You will find your way, Nif. That I can promise.” Perhaps he could believe something as vague as that.

Ianto nodded, appeased. At least she wasn’t going to tell him he’d find life, love, and happiness. That was bollocks. He was literally incapable of believing that, in this moment.

“Thank you for this,” he said, looking back at the photograph.

“Happy Christmas,” she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

***


End file.
